Birds of a Feather
by Your Iron Lung
Summary: They say that birds of a feather flock together, and vampires are no exception.
1. Chapter 1

The rules of being a vampire, as were laid down to him from the vampire before him, were as followed:

Never, under any circumstance, drink the blood of a dead person.

Fire, like the sun, has the same destructive possibilities to their kind, and can kill them all the easier.

Humans were never meant to be seen as anything more than a simple meal.

Love was forbidden, for the heartache was eternal.

And finally, what may have been the most important rule, was simply never to get caught.

Humans fear what they can not understand, and to be caught feasting on the blood of man would throw everything vampires had tried to accomplish in the ways of secrecy would be thrown into turmoil.

That was what the older vampire had instructed him before he'd cast himself into the fire, his screeches reaching the high rafters of the castle as he turned to ash in a horrible display of agony.

The young Finas had been horrified, truly, and could not understand why his creator had so readily destroyed himself. Nor could he figure out the reasoning behind why the man had chosen _him _as his replacement.

"Because you'll last." Had been the excuse, if he recalled correctly.

It was vague and more than slightly confusing, but with the vampire now dead and gone, there was no one for him to question about the excuse he'd received.

But surely this was not what the man had meant when he had said that Finas would 'last'.

Not even a month old into his new form, Finas had broken two of the sacred vampiric laws, and was surely paying the cost now. He had hesitated when dealing the final blow, that look of absolute fear and desperation being directed toward him had been too much, and he had been caught.

The guilt he'd felt when he'd cornered that young boy had distracted him so thoroughly that he hadn't realized there were people there to witness his crime. Of course, when he'd heard the shrill cry for help from the Italian woman nearby, he'd known.

The guards came running, and even though he put up a valiant effort to evade them, without the proper teaching of his new vampiric powers he'd been left utterly hapless as the guards swarmed and caught him, imprisoning him with relative ease.

The strong Italian guards had shouted at him angrily, handling him roughly before shoving him violently into a cold, windowless cell, startling the prisoner who was also being held there.

He was grateful for the fact that the cell had no window, and even if he couldn't understand the incessant babbling of his mortal roommate, at least he could take solace in the fact that he would not be burned to death as his creator had been.

And thus marked the beginning of the worst years of Finas' existence.

Being as newborn a vampire as he was, the preternatural hunger was constant and ever present. It gnawed at him day and night, demanding his thirst be quenched. He couldn't bear to look at that man he shared his cell with, frightened of how he seemed to be able to _hear _the blood pounding through the mans body.

Of course, the prison guards often left small rations of food for the two of them, attempting to keep them feed even in these harsh conditions, but these only succeeded in antagonizing him, for he was no longer able to ingest what he once was able. That didn't stop him from trying, though, and the end result was so miserable and awful, he never dared eat human food again. Of course, this puzzled his cellmate; how could a man live if he didn't eat? It was beyond him, but being as that he was of simple mind, only accepted the extra bits of food and sat in silence away from Finas' hungry stares.

Days, or maybe months passed before Finas decided he couldn't stand it any longer. He rounded on his unfortunate companion, uttering many an apology before he'd held the man down, forcing him to lie still and be calm as he sank his fangs in and drank greedily, aching for more as soon as the body was drained. All too soon. He ached for more as soon as he pulled away, politely folding the hands over the chest as he placed him on the far edge of the cell where he wouldn't have to look at it.

The guards refused to take the body.

They were downright frightened of Finas, now that they'd seen what he'd done to that poor young man he'd been forced to dwell with. Though they knew that they were safe on the opposite side of that wrought iron cage, they tried their damndest to have minimal contact with him, often averting their eyes for fear he could enchant them in some manor.

The body began to rot, and the stench was unbearable, made all the worse by his heightened vampiric senses. He was sickened by it, sickened by what he'd done to it, and could only plead with the guards in a language they didn't understand to either release him, or at the very least take him to a different cell; he was too weak to put up much of a fight.

Of course, they ignored him, and time went on. The faces of the guards changed like the seasons of the year changing and growing onward outside, and still he did not die. He knew he wouldn't, but he still wished for it with every waking, gnawing moment of his existence. The guards, once so diligent in their duties, eventually begin to thin out as the other prisoners they were paid to watch died or were released until there was no one down there but the withering, ageless man.

Finas' strength, like time, trickled away until he could barely keep himself standing. Without that sweet nourishment that blood gave him, Finas had become crippled to the point where he couldn't stand to do anything more than lay down and rest against the hard stone flooring, his vampiric hunger gnawing at him incessantly. This was torture in its purest form, he was sure.

The prison was empty now, he was sure of it, as the hollow echoes of nothing at all bounced around him, mocking his torture as it threw his pitiful moans back at him. Helpless and alone, he could do nothing more than to wish for that sweet embrace of death.

There was nothing in this cell capable of killing an immortal, and not for the first time did he find himself wishing he had been thrust into a cell with a window after all. At least then he would have had that option.

Weak and utterly trapped behind thick steel bars, it seemed Finas would be waiting for some sort of salvation till the end of time. So he counted, forcing time to march on even if he no longer knew if time still existed. It was hard to tell.

Life mulled on as he counted the seconds that passed, groaning and whining pitifully before he heard it; something small was skittering around just outside his cage.

With great effort and many a strangled groan, he managed to raise his head up just enough to catch a glimpse of what it was.

A rat.

A big, juicy, absolutely _appetizing _looking rat was sniffing its way along the walls bordering the hall. He just about shut-down at the site of it.

He raised his hand (he was surprised, startled and scared to find that his skin was literally clinging to his bone, showing off every contour it had to offer) and slowly began to thread it through the bars, shakily grasping for that rat that seemed just out of his reach. The rat, sensing no threat, paid him no mind and continued on with what it was doing, inching ever farther away. Frustrated, Finas strained to push himself further, trying hard to get what seemed his last chance at escape, but was simply too weak. He let his arm collapse, cursing mentally as he heaved a dry, exasperated sigh.

'_Just come a little closer, please, you stupid little animal.' _He pleaded franticly with his mind, hollow face turned toward the rodent with a look of absolute desperation stretched across it. '_Just a little closer, please, I __beg you.'_

He really hadn't expected much, if anything to happen, gave a fantastic little cry of joy when he noticed that the rat was actually listening to him, creeping closer ever so slowly with whiskers twitching wildly.

Finas' eyes widened; he hadn't been aware he'd had this kind of power. He continued encouraging the rat, gesturing to it with his sickly thin hand, the mental strain of trying to keep the rats focus causing him to quake.

'_Yes, yes, so close! Closer now, please!'_

The rat was still slow and hesitant in its advances, and it was just _so close! _He realized dumbly that he'd probably be salivating if he was still able to, but had no pride left to be ashamed about it.

'_Come on, you stupid rodent! Just a little closer, that's all I ask! Quit toying with me AND COME HERE!'_

Too strong.

The rat, frightened by the ferocity of Finas' mental voice, panicked and fled, removing any chance Finas had had of feeding.

Unable to comprehend what just happened, all Finas could do was stare, left alone once more, before he let out a low wail, heaving a dry sob as he cursed this 'lasting' prison he'd been unfairly thrust into. What good was 'lasting' if this was how he was determined to live? If only he'd had better control over his patience and hadn't shouted at that damn rat…

Now wait a minute.

If he'd been able to communicate with that rat, to some degree, was it possible, then, that he would be able to send out a plea, a sort of cry for help to someone outside these prisons walls?

Well, it was damn well worth a shot.

Finas began concentrating, focusing the last remaining bits of his energy into one last-ditch effort to free himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he shook with the effort of trying to project his mental message out as far as he could possibly get it to go.

'_Someone, anyone; please, help me.'_

Exhausted, he dropped his head back to the stone and slept.

He awoke to the sound of footsteps some hours later.

At first, he thought it was a sick trick of the mind, a remnant of the dream he'd just awakened from until he heard a second pair trekking after the first. If it were physically possible for him, he would have sat up and yelled, calling attention to himself immediately as he heard the duo coming ever closer.

Finally, the footsteps came to a halt directly before his cell, and though he could barely keep his eyes open, his hearing was still very much in tact as a long, low whistle reached his ears.

"Distorsione di velocitá, esaminereste quello? Esamini questo tipo."

He felt his hope in being saved slip a little as he realized they spoke in a language he still didn't understand, and tried desperately to raise his head to see his would-be saviors. All he manages instead is a slight lull and a quiet moan.

The person whistled again.

Whoever it is standing before him crouches low, grabbing hold of his thin, thin wrist only to drop it the minute he lifts it up to inspect.

"Hey, potete capirli?" the man asks, reaching through the bars this time with hands so thick and natural looking, snapping dark-skinned fingers in front of his face, demanding attention. "State ascottando? Parlate Italiano?"

Finas groans again, blinking wearily, tired of all the injustices life had been giving to him.

"How about English, then? Do you understand that?"

Shocked, Finas tries fervently to convey that yes, yes, he does in fact speak English, but can only manage some sort of throaty 'mnghhgnh.'

"Ha, I'll take that as a yes then."

He takes a step back away from Finas' pathetic form, slipping out of his peripheral as he hums thoughtfully, flicking a large silver coin expertly back and forth between his fingers.

"You look like you could use some help there, friend."

Yes, yes, oh God, yes!

"Casimiro? Chi è questo? Che cosa state discendo?"

He'd forgotten there was a second person there with the first, and felt his hopes soar again. The voice definitely belonged to a male, and a rather young sounding one at that.

"Silenzio, ora, Peyo; Sto pensando." The clearly older man ordered, an accompanying 'hush now' sound of annoyance making his directions clear. He flicked the coin into the air, catching it with a loud slap as he flipped and held it firmly in place against his arm. "Teste, o code, Peyo?"

"Che cosa? Code; state andando ora girorli? Avek promesso!"

Without giving a response to whatever it was the young boy had been babbling about, the first man peeled his hand back and away from the coin and grinned.

"Kings to you, friend; looks like it's your lucky day."

Finas couldn't look at him, though he wanted to; lucky in what regard?

"Promisso qui, Peyo."

Even though he could not see, his hearing managed to tell him that the lock imprisoning him had been broken, and that the rusty steel door was now open. He was free. He let out a guttural groan of thanks, trying desperately to get his body to move, though it was futile. Curses! Finally, even after all this time, he was still trapped, with the door wide open and-

Was that blood?

Suddenly he was alert, body losing all sense of fatigue immediately as the jail cell snapped shut again, that poor boy accompanying the other, taller man, stood frightened, staring at him. Finas' mind went blank as his hunger kicked his primal instincts into gear, losing himself as he honed in on that thin trail of blood running down the boy's cheek.

Blood.

That thick, savory substance he'd been craving for what seemed like _years _running freely, wasting itself as it began to drip to the floor.

He was on top of the boy before either of them could blink; ripping into the poor thing with such savage ferocity he would be ashamed if he were in his right mind. Outside, the dark haired man with the coin was grinning wickedly, watching the animalistic display with obvious relish.

The young boys screams quickly died down, and soon the fingers that had been pressed hard against his face in defiance fell away as the body was drained of its life-energy. Finas gasped, then, suddenly coming back to his senses as he cast the body away from him, frightened at what he'd done, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He was still hungry, and still very weak, and he turned, staring at the Italian with the deep red eyes as he laughed and applauded.

"Bravo, my friend, bravo."

As the rush of energy from his recent feeding left him, he found himself clinging to the bars tightly, trying to support himself as best he could.

"Who," Finas began, coughing loudly as his throat scratched, his voice croaky from ages of disuse. "Who are you?"

The Italian smirked and opened the door, reaching out to help the ailing vampire to his feet as he gave his response, gingerly wrapping his arm around the mans waist.

"The name's Casimiro, friend, and that there _was _Peyo, a young accomplice of mine." He gestured to the boys crumpled body before hefting one of Finas' shaky arms across his shoulders as he began to walk the two of them out of the prison cell. "And to who do I owe this grizzly pleasure?"

Too preoccupied with trying to get his feet to work on their own as they headed toward the stairwell, Casimiro doing most of the work as they slowly began their ascent, one clear thought running rampant through Finas' mind.

_I'm free, I'm free, I'm _free.

"Friend? You got a name? Stay with me here, we'll get you all filled up soon."

"Finas. I- my name is Finas."

"Well alright, Finas. As soon's we get outta here we're gonna get you all fixed up, back to normal; good as new."

Finas chocked, relieved that this torture he'd been living through for what felt like centuries was finally coming to a close.

"Thank you; thank you so much. I-I owe you my life."

Casimiro laughed as he helped Finas navigate his way up the final few steps, turning them and leading him down the long hall to freedom; this was the final stretch.

"Don't thank me, Finas; it was lady Luck who saved you. Kings to you, sir. Anyway, how'd a vampire like you end up trapped in a prison? Sheesh, no wonder I've never met another vampire; I bet they're all trapped like you. You know, I was so alone, I was going to turn Peyo, just so I'd have someone to share this life with. I tell you, it sure is nice…"

Finas tuned out Casimiro's talkativeness as they neared the end of the hall, the doors leading to his freedom propped open from when the two vagabonds had entered originally. Eager to finally be rid of this place, he struggled to pry himself from Casimiros side and half stumbled, half fell the rest of the way. He landed roughly in the slightly damp grass, crawling before finally collapsing and flipping over, staring up at the star speckled sky and breathing in the night air deeply.

"Oh, oh. Thank God…"

Behind him, Casimiro stood leaning against the wall, watching this display with a smile as he flicked his coin up and down, shaking his head.

"Kings to you, friend. Good for you."


	2. Chapter 2

They didn't have to go very far before they stumbled (literally, in Finas' case) upon a small farm. It wasn't far from the prison, for which the both of them were glad. For Cas, it meant less work on his part, and for Finas, it meant he was not forced to feed on humans in his weekend state. He'd drained the few sheep that hadn't initially fled from him in terror, and left their bodies as little more than hard bundles of fluff.

Partially satisfied and able to walk on his own (though he was still thinner than he would've liked), he allowed himself to follow behind Casimiro as he wandered about the estate, whistling quietly, when he stopped.

"What is it?" Finas asked, coming to a halt beside him.

For what seemed like the first time since they'd met, Casimiro looked utterly serious, gazing up at the rows of trees that lined the way before them.

"I used to love olives."

Casimiro seemed to sigh before starting up again, heading into the lanes of neatly planted olive trees with Finas following close behind. He understood Casimiro's plight of no longer being able to enjoy the things he once loved, and remained silent as the taller man reminisced.

They came to a stop again as Casimiro reached up into the boughs of a tree and easily snapped off a branch, twirling it in his fingers before taking a seat at the base of the trunk, gesturing for Finas to do the same.

He sat down adjacent from the Italian and let his back fall into the thick groove of the trunk, thankful for the impromptu rest. Beside him, Casimiro held an olive in his hand, eyeing it oddly before tossing it aside.

"You had to be careful of the pit, though."

Finas agreed with a slight nod and they sat in silence for a while, appreciating the night sounds as the evening drew on. The air outside in the country was in such sharp contrast to the musty, rotted prison air he had been accustomed to, he couldn't help but take great, deep breaths, even if he no longer needed them. It was all so fresh and crisp.

"You never did tell me what you were doing in Italy, Finas." Blinking, he glanced to Casimiro sitting beside him, twirling the olive branch in his fingers before the Italian continued. "It doesn't make much sense for a man who doesn't speak a lick of the language to come traversing through the country without at least a guide. "

Casimiro turned, his red eyes glinting in the moonlight as he made eye-contact with Finas, making it apparent that the nature of this conversation was to be very much on the serious side. Finas held it for a brief moment before sighing and looking away.

"I can't say that I was in the clearest of minds when I decided that coming here would be best." He admit, frowning down at the sorry state his clothes were in. He hadn't noticed how worn out they were, though he should've expected it.

"Why go anywhere at all if you know you're not of sound mind?"

His voice was contemplative as he kept up with his query, honestly trying to understand why Finas had decided to come to where he had. Finas sighed once more letting his head fall back against the trunk of the tree, staring up at its branches before shutting his eyes.

"I was running."

Intrigued, Casimiro grinned.

"Running? From what, pray tell?"

"Prosecution."

The word fell heavy into the conversation as Casimiro's grin dropped, replaced with a frown. Memories associated with the term began to replay themselves in Finas' mind, bringing pained grimaces and melancholy shoulder hunches. The Italians joking demeanor quickly evaporated as he sat back and turned his gaze to the rolling fields nearby, quietly thinking.

"So that wasn't your first time being locked up, then?"

"No. I have never been locked up like that before." He shuddered. "No, I was not being prosecuted then for being a demon of the night. Rather, I was being prosecuted for the murder of my wife."

"Ah."

They fell into silence again as Casimiro plucked another olive off the stem, rolling it around in his hand as he thought.

"Well, _did_ you murder her? Was the hunger so great that you had to turn on your beloved to satisfy it?"

"How dare you." Finas snapped, opening his eyes to glare at Casimiro and his allegations, clearly affronted. "I was not the beast I am today, then, when she was murdered, so please keep your _outlandish_ accusations to yourself."

Casimiro grinned, tossing the olive up and down carelessly as he pondered all that Finas was saying.

"So who, if not you, killed her?" He questioned, turning to meet Finas' angered gaze. The paler man, however, couldn't hold it and sighed, clearly deflated as he looked away.

"The man who created me wanted to make sure I would have no attachments left in this life before he stripped me from it. Of course, I hadn't known that at the time, but he'd been preparing for my creation for quite a while."

"Interesting. Were you aware it was him as soon as you'd learned of her death, or was that too an enigma at the time?"

"No, you're right; I was entirely unaware it was him at the time, but that, too, was part of his plan.

"A while before she was taken from me, sometimes as I slept I dreamt a of a demon who would often enter my room at night and whisper horrific things as we slumbered. Often times it would whisper for the death of my wife, but before I could wake and save her from its mutterings it would turn into a bat and fly away. Of course, when I told her of these things, she didn't believe me and told me it was nothing but nonsense."

"Sounds like something out of a gothic horror novel." Casimiro commented, dissecting the olive in his hand as he listened. Finas nodded in agreement.

"Indeed, it felt like one for the longest time. Then when she did pass on, the townsfolk assumed I had done it, for my 'talks of madness' had been spread about."

"Your wife had a loose tongue, then?"

"She did enjoy gossip, yes."

"So what came next?"

Finas sighed again, kneading at the bridge of his nose as he recalled events he preferred to leave untouched.

"Well, naturally the town demanded I be brought to justice. But I, ever firm and adamant in my belief of innocence, refused arrest and decreed that I would bring back the head of the man who'd murdered my beloved." Finas paused, looking into his palm when Casimiro handed him the pit of the newly dismembered pit. Confused, but deciding to say nothing of it, he pressed on. "So I left."

"Huh. And then?"

Finas cast the olive pit aside, adjusting himself against the tree trunk. It was reliving, actually, to finally be able to tell his maddening story to someone who'd actually believe him, after so many years of being doubted. It was therapeutic.

"I assumed the rest was fairly straightforward. When I went to relieve the demon of his head, he simply killed me first, then did away with himself. There's not much else to it, I'm afraid."

"Hm. And you couldn't exactly go back, then, could you? Being what you were?" Finas shook his head, no. "An interesting tale, though it still doesn't explain what you're doing in Italy."

"My wife always talked about going to visit Italy. She was always so animated when it came to this place." He frowned, and sighed, recalling all the times his wife had chattered on about the country. "I would've taken her, had I the money. I suppose I'm here now for her, since she wanted to come here so badly."

"That's silly." Casimiro commented. He failed to see the sentiment behind the words, and chuckled absently. Rather than be offended, Finas merely shrugged. "That's all very unfortunate, though. It seems life's not been fair to you."

"I never expected it to be."

Shoulders hunched over in melancholic display, Finas vaguely wondered if every vampire's back-story was as depressing as his. He contemplates asking Casimiro about his, and is about to do so when the man is talking, his voice oddly distant as he peels another olive from its pit.

"I think, though, it's fair to say that things are about to turn around for you, friend. Fate seems to think you've had about enough."

The olive in his hand disappears and is replaced with the coin from before, Casimiro flicking it high into the air repeatedly as it comes back down. Finas blinks, confused, wondering how he was able to interchange the objects without him noticing. A trick of the light, perhaps? Watching as the piece of silver flipped through the air, he remembered what Casimiro had said before, back in the prison, when he'd tossed the piece to determine his fate.

_'Kings to you.'_

What did that mean?

"Before, back in the prison." He asks slowly, drawing his gaze away from the gleaming silver to stare pointedly at Casimiro. "You kept saying 'kings to you'; what does that mean?"

Casimiro halts the coins movement, and with a smirk presents it to Finas, a mischievous look to his eye. Finas took the coin in hand and began to look it over, running an appraising glance over it, surprised as he turns it over. On one side is the silhouette of a faded, unrecognizable face, and on the other is a crown.

"It's old." Finas remarks as he runs his fingers along the edge, feeling the grooves and nicks in the piece as Casimiro agrees.

"It's lucky." The Italian took the coin from Finas and flips it to the side with the crown before handing it back, pointing at the shape. "You see, when chance is in your favor, it'll land with the crown facing up, making you the king of the situation."

Casimiro is smiling, clearly enjoying the moment. It wasn't often he was allowed to elaborate on the genius of his inner-working.

"When you get the crown, it's kings to you, you see?"

Nodding, Finas handed the coin back, appreciating the logic. However, Casimiro is shaking his head and pushing the coin back toward Finas.

"Keep it. When fate decides I'm king again, then I'll take it back."

"But it's yours." Finas insisted, frowning. "You said yourself it was old, surely it has some value to it."

"I'm not king right now; it wouldn't make sense for me to have it. I'll have more fun this way, Fin; just hold onto it for me. It's fine."

Frowning at the improper use of his name, Finas relented and pocketed the coin, letting out a huff of impatience at Casimiro's attitude. It was the first of many to come.

They lapse into another, far more comfortable silence as the two of them enjoy the night and the sounds it had to offer. It is a long while before Casimiro speaks again, though when he does, his voice is subdued and serious.

"So what now, Kingsly? With no hopes of you ever getting revenge and no place to go, one can't help but wonder what you're planning?"

Casimiros face is stony as he stares dead ahead, the olive branch in his hand twirling around absently. Finas frowned.

"I don't know." He answers quietly, sitting up straighter against the tree. "I haven't given it much thought, to be honest. I suppose, though, that the best thing to do now would be to find some sort of purpose. I imagine that would keep me preoccupied for a while."

"Purpose?" Casimiro snorts, chuckling a bit as any and all seriousness he had had in the moment vanished. "You're the type of man who looks for a kind of 'purpose' in everything he does, aren't you? Oh, that's rich."

Frowning, Finas glares at him, raising a brow.

"Is that not what God has us here for? To find purpose in the meaning of our lives?"

"_God_? You're telling me you still believe in _God_?" Shaking his head, Casimiro gives him an incredulous look. "We don't _breathe_, Finas, what sort of purpose do you think 'God' has for us? What, if any, purpose is there for a dead man to find?"

"What, then, is keeping you or I from walking into the sun if there's no point to our existence?" Fiinas asks, slightly angered that his faith was being thrown into the line of fire.

Casimiro is smiling again, though something about it this time doesn't feel…right. It was eerie and unsettling, though Finas couldn't quite figure out why that was.

"Chaos." Is the dark-skinned man's answer, only furthering confusing Finas.

"Pardon?"

His smile broadened.

"Surely you've heard the saying stating that without chaos, order can not exist?" Finas nods, unsure of what this really has to do with anything as Casimiro continues. "_We_ are this worlds chaos, Fin."

Casimiro is clearly excited, but Finas still can't grasp the concept he's trying to relay.

"I don't understand."

"Where do you think the world would be without the fear of the unknown? If everyone was sure and sturdy in the knowledge that everything is sane and proper and absolutely nothing can escape the explanation of science, then the world would collapse, see? And likewise we cannot escape the rules of order. 'Chaos lights the flame, but order allows it to burn.' And vice-versa. We, Finas, provide that chaotic element needed to sustain the balance of this world."

Casimiros eyes are wide and alight with enthusiasm and an inhumane devilish delight; making it all the more apparent that he's given this idea of his a great deal of thought. Finas takes a while to absorb the information, processing it all before finally, he's shaking his head, laughing lightly.

"Forgive me if I find all this hard to believe. Coming from a man who has denounced the existence of God and has decreed that there is no tangible purpose we can hope to sustain, this is all so very vast and outlandish.

The Italians jovial expression falls and darkens as he stares at the pale man with the utmost disdain, and for a minute Finas is afraid he's struck a deep-rooted nerve. Ceasing his laughter, he waits for whatever Casimiro is gearing up to do when the man laughs, clapping him across the shoulder pleasantly.

"Haha! Oh, I do so enjoy you, Finas. I'm glad fate chose you over Peyo; you're far more entertaining. You present opposition to me, and I enjoy a good conflict every now and then. I'm certain Peyo would've eventually turned against me and tried for my demise, but with you I feel we'll just continue to clash without doing any real harm."

Getting to his feet and stretching out his long torso, Casimiro laughs again before reaching out a hand to help Finas up. Glad he hadn't angered his new-found acquaintance, Finas takes it and comes to a stand, patting away the soil that clung to him.

"So, Finas, would you like me to give you the grand tour of Italy, or have you had just about enough of this place?"

"I believe I am quite done with Italy." He responds, fixing the poor remains of his clothing, the heavy weight of the coin in his pocket reminding him of his luck. "I wouldn't mind, however, traversing into town to get some new, better clothing. I think these I have on are well past their limit."

"Of course, of course; not a problem, sir." Casimiro says cheerily, leading the two of them out of the orchard and onto the path the farmer used to take his crop into town. "Why, I know one of the finest Italian tailors around; we'll get you clothed properly in no time."


	3. Chapter 3

"I must say, I'm surprised, Finas. Paris, really? You have the chance and opportunity to go anywhere in the world, and yet you choose to go to France? You realize that it's practically my backyard."

He stood with his back to Casimiro even as the Italian man paced about the room, his shoes making soft pitter-patter noises in the carpet as he moved. Finas continued to stare down at the darkened Italian streets as the restless man behind him continued to berate him for his point of interest.

"What on earth is in Paris that isn't here?"

"As I recall," Finas said with a sigh, drawing shut the drapes and turning to face Casimiro, his face stern and impassive. "You were the one who allowed me free choice of destination. With nowhere else in mind, it was merely a suggestion."

"A rather cliché one, don't you think?"

Casimiro grinned sardonically as Finas shrugged, moving to sit one of the lovely plush chairs in the room, sitting back against it and resting his eyes. He was quite surprised to find that his rescuer owned this place, as it was elegant and decorated in a style he hadn't known Casimiro possessed. It was comfortable, and the atmosphere was settling; much more preferable then that of his old cell.

"And anyway," Casimiro said as he continued, romping around the room animatedly. "I'd like to know how you plan on communicating when we got over there. A man who can't speak Italian can hardly be expected to speak the native French tongue, can he?"

Finas cracked his eyes open to watch as Casimiro strolled about, raising a very logical point.

"I assumed most Italians could speak French, as they share a border. Am I mistaken?"

"That's a fairly awful assumption to make, Finas. Not everyone can be that gifted with tongues; you're lucky I can speak English, haha."

Casimiro laughed lightheartedly as he began to calm his movements, choosing now to settle himself on the edge of the feathered bed he'd promised to let Finas use for the time being.

"My apologies, I was not aware I'd been misinformed."

Finas was exhausted, and the way Casimiro was handling his suggestion was beginning to grate on his nerves. It seemed that the Italian man was going through the motions more to annoy and tease than to actually come to a solution. He was beginning to see how this man truly worked, and he couldn't say that it was all that enjoyable.

"So, then, what's your next line of action, now that you know us Italians aren't as language savvy as you'd thought?"

"I don't know." He said, his annoyance shining clear through his voice as he shook his head and shut his eyes again. "I suppose I could learn the language. I don't know."

Casimiro snorted and waved his hand at this idea, causing Finas to pinch his brow as he prepared himself for yet another one of the Italian man's rebuttals.

"That'll take too long, I'm afraid."

"Too long?" Finas repeated, giving a skeptical snort of his own as he knew Casimiro's counter-argument would surface. "Were you not also the one who claimed we had 'all the time in the world' to do as we pleased?"

"I'll get bored waiting around for you to get fluent, Finas."

Here Casimiro flashed a grin, his teeth gleaming preternaturally in what little light graced the room, only further aggravating Finas who raised a hand in defeat. This man, Casimiro, was beyond any level of aggravation that he'd ever known. It seemed the Italian man enjoyed feigning interest in something only to turn it inside out and expose all the weakness, flaws and fall-throughs it had for his own amusement.

"What, then, do you suggest we do, Casimiro? What should we do in order to both keep your interest and move on at the same time?"

"I say we wing it. Chances are someone over there in that great frilly state will be able to speak one or both our languages."

Unsure if there was anyone else he despised in the world more than Casimiro at this very moment, Finas opened his eyes to blatantly glare at the Italian resting cozily upon his bed.

"You were the one who insisted upon the issue of a language barrier. What happened to not wishing to be made into a fool?"

Casimiro shrugged and grinned, slapping his hands to his knees as he got to his feet.

"Changed my mind. Anyway, the sun's about to rise- I feel like sleeping. I bet you could do some good with a nice rest."

He didn't wait for Finas to reply before he'd allowed his long legs to carry him out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaving the vampire alone. Finas sat there briefly, still battling the Italian man mentally before he shook his head. There was no good trying to argue the point anymore, at least, not one-sidedly, anyway. Besides, Casimiro had been right; he was aching for a decent rest. He briefly began contemplating to just fall asleep where he was in the arms of the plush chair, but thought better of it and got to his feet with a needless sigh.

It had, after all, been a long while since he'd been able to enjoy the comforts of a soft feather mattress, his body having become accustomed to the cold, hard embrace of stone. He stared warily at the bed for a bit, wondering if this was all a trick- some cruel imaginings of a starved mind- before he allowed himself to sit on the very edge, sinking into its embrace with a low, soft sigh.

There was only one way to describe it; it was heavenly.

Not for the first time that night did Finas take the time to gaze about the room, observing just how absolutely lavish the place was. The whole home was, in fact. When Finas had asked about the large house and inquired just how it was Casimiro had been able to afford it, the man had claimed himself to being a nobleman.

He was skeptical of that, however, and had good reason to be. Finas may not have been accustomed to the ways of many aristocrats and nobles, especially not with the Italian variety, but he was fairly certain that any noblemen would know the language of their neighboring country. It seemed that that kind of teaching would be popular, especially if a family did dealings within that country, which Italy seemed apt to do.

A great surge of exhaustion overcame him in that moment, and he decided that it probably wasn't all that important, and even if it was, it could be addressed at a later date. What was important, though, was to sleep on this delightfully soft mattress and rest his poor aching body. Finas crawled the length of the bed and let himself collapse upon it when he'd reached the soft caresses of the pillows, falling asleep quickly, still dressed in his new clothing.


	4. Chapter 4

The first time Finas laid witness to Casimiro losing his humanity had been a truly horrific affair.

They'd been caught up in attempted robbery not too long after they crossed into the French border. The two were lodged comfortably in a carriage Casimiro claimed to have owned, when the driver of the vehicle unknowingly slowed to a halt to assist a distressed rider and his own posse when they'd been ambushed. The men to the side of the road, professional thieves, killed the driver and their horses before closing in to take care of the noblemen inside.

The two vampires had exited the carriage easily enough, and listened on in confusion as the robbers blathered on in French, when something seemed to just snap within Casimiro.

The man who'd seemed calm mere minutes before this eruption of insanity, scowled and burst into a fit of inhumanity when the men attempted to take the money on his person. His skin began to fizzle and crack, blurring into the air as his face took on a monstrous turn; his mouth a gaping maw of scarlet and teeth so impossibly sharp.

Finas could only stare, mouth agape and eyes widened in blatant horror as Casimiro approached the would-be robbers with an anger buzzing wildly in his eyes. The men folded in on themselves, babbling incoherently even to each other before the enraged vampire raised his clawed, crackling hand, and mauled them into non-existence.

"Casimiro!" the shorter vampire finally managed to call out as Casimiro launched into a second round, attempting to maim the corpses further before Finas pulled him back. "Casimiro, enough, please!"

Eventually, Casimiro relented, face an angry snarl as he stared at the thieves' bodies before shrugging Finas' hand off. It was apparent his patience was worn thing as he stalked off down the road, cursing vividly in Italian. Finas, still in brief shock over these recent turn of events, had to shake himself out of it before he followed after his saviour, more questions on his tongue than taste-buds.

"Casimiro, what on _earth _was that?"

"What?" Casimiro snapped angrily as he followed the gait of his long legs. "That was nothing."

"It most certainly was not!" Finas accused, keeping even with the tall man's long strides. "I may know not anything involving our kind, but that, back there, was most certainly not 'nothing'!"

"It's a transformation we all through should we lose our blasted humanity." He explained, his mouth a thin, grim line of annoyance devoid of any patience. Casimiro's eyes swiveled to the side to eye up Finas before they ran back to the road ahead of him, continuing with his explanation. "So, it's 'nothing' as long as you keep your humanity in check, you understand?"

Finas tagged along silently as Casimiro began to ease his speed, his anger slowly diminishing as the English man mulled over this new information given to him with mild discomfort.

"I was not aware we could lose any part of ourselves, let alone something so…important."

"You've got a lot to learn, then." Casimiro said, chuckling lightly. "Lucky you've got me, right?"

"Casimi-"

"Well now we're in France." The Italian cut in, coming to a halt and gazing about the country. "Albeit a few miles from any real city, but we're in France nonetheless."

Finas too came to a stand-still beside his taller counterpart, realizing then that the man was right. They may have crossed the French border, but they truly were far from any form of civilization that would allow them to board. His eyes drifted upward to the sky in newly awakened apprehension as Casimiro began walking once more, talking aloud more to himself than anything.

"Do you think we'll be able to make it to a city before sunrise?"

"Can bats fly?" was Casimiro's smooth response, said without missing a beat as his rambles slowly diminished into silence.

"Pardon?"

Upon realizing that he must've passed Casimiro on the road, Finas halted once more and turned back around to get some clarification. However, Casimiro was gone.

Confused, he frowned, looking around as he felt a bat fly by low over his head. Still, there was no sign of the Italian man.

"Casimiro? Where've you gone?"

"Right here, darling."

Finas whipped his head around quickly as he felt something furry and light land upon his shoulder and begin to pet his face. The bat perched there laughed loudly at the look of blatant surprise etched onto Finas' face.

"Casimiro?"

The bat, then revealed to be Casimiro in guise of a bat, laughed once more before he flit off Finas' shoulder and transformed back into his human form. Finas was beyond perplexed.

"Casimiro, how in the world-"

"Sometimes I forget you aren't very educated." Casimiro said with an arrogant smirk, amused with Finas' affronted expression.

"I assure you I am well educated in many different affairs. I admit, though, that the learning's of a vampire escape me."

"Relax, relax." Casimiro assuaged, rolling his eyes with a grin. "You've got me now, remember? I'll teach you everything you need to know."

The tall Italian man came and wrapped his an arm around Finas' shoulders, earning himself a disgusted glance.

"Right now, it seems, you look like you could use some flying lessons."

* * *

The process had been long, arduous, awkward and uncertain for the most part on Finas' end, and earned many a laugh from the taller man. Soon, though, he managed to get into the swing of things and found he could navigate the air currents just as well as Casimiro could, matching his even speed and flying quickly toward what they hoped would be a city.

Taking to the air had been a smart idea, as they covered far more ground then they would have walking, or even riding in the carriage to have begun with. Of course, when Finas had asked why they didn't decide to fly into France in the first place, Casimiro had just shrugged (as well as he could in bat form).

"Personally I rather like carriage rides." He'd said casually. "I find them pleasant."

Although it was hardly a proper answer, those were the only words that were exchanged during their flight before they touched down in a back alley in a small city they'd spotted from a distance.

"Welcome to France." Casimio said as they changed back into their human shapes once they were certain the coast was clear. "Home of filthy rats and beggars."

Finas ignored Casimiro's rude jabs about the apparent state the city was in and took his time in getting his bearings. However, true to Casimiro's word, there truly wasn't much, other than the occasional skittering rodent and deranged looking peasant.

"I doubt this is any reputable city with which we can expect much from." Finas commented, avoiding the filth littering the alley as he stepped out of it. "We'll have to find someplace to regroup and figure out where we want to go."

"I told you France had nothing Italy couldn't offer; where do you expect to go, if you have no idea _where_ you want to go?"

"I don't know; I suppose Paris is always an option." Finas said with a casual shrug. In all honesty, he hadn't really thought this through to the point where they would know what to do, know that they'd arrived at his destination of choice.

"Paris? Really? Jesus, Finny, you're killing me."

Finas sighed as Casimiro began to make grotesque gagging noises behind him, over-exaggerating his sentiments toward his suggestion. He should've known better to have thought that anything he'd suggested would appease Casimiro's whimsy. The Italian would probably bicker and complain about most everything as long as they were in France. A disheartening thought, but one Finas managed to shrug off all the same.

"Well at the very least let's find someplace to reside for when the sun rises. It won't be too much longer till it does if we keep bickering like this."

"Alright; lead the way, Finnigan."

Choosing not to say anything about the annoying and ridiculous manipulations of his name (lest Casimiro take it as some form of encouragement), Finas led the way down a street, ambling along with no direction in mind. The city, they were loathe to find, was actually quite bare. A few businesses and a couple of less than refutable places lined the streets, though surprisingly enough it didn't take them long to come across an inn of sorts.

It appeared to be on the rather shabby side, and looked positively dumpy, but being on a very strict time limit didn't allow for them to be too choosey with these things.

Casimiro handled the negotiations with the clerk on duty as he asked about a room ("Con due basi, prego signore"), as they were fortunate enough in that the man spoke Italian, although very little.

Upon receiving the keys and paying off the man, they made their way upstairs into the room they'd rented. They found, however, that the room was no better than they'd expected it to be. Finas himself scowled at the overall trashiness of it, and stomped down hard on a roach that had dared crawl close to him. Casimiro was more preoccupied with the state of the drapes, full of holes and thin as could be.

"These won't protect us from anything, let alone from the sun's rays."

"What do we do?"

Casimiro shrugged and made as though to pull them down completely, when an establishment through the window across the street caught his eye.

"Hey, Finas, look; is that what I think it is?"

Curious, Finas came up beside Casimiro and peered out the small window, wondering what it was that had grasped his partner's attention. However, when he saw precisely what it was Casimiro had mentioned, he scowled and turned away.

"If what you're thinking it is happens to be a courtesan home, than yes, it is in fact what you are thinking it is." Casimiro whistled low and rubbed his hands together, a wolfish grin on his face; an excited look in his eye. Finas scoffed. "Please restrain yourself until at least tomorrow evening, Casimiro."

The tanned man laughed and drew the curtains shut before moving to take one of the thicker quilts off the bed and set to work fixing it over the less than competent drapes. Once finished and certain that that would do in protecting them for the day, he sat back and admired his handiwork before laying himself out on the bed that retained all its blankets, leaving the shorthanded one to Finas.

"Your generosity knows no bound." Finas quipped as he removed his jacket, laying it over one of the rotted looking chairs before creeping onto the bed Casimiro had left him.

"Hey, I'm the one with the money; if I'm gonna pay to stay and share a room with you, than I ought to at least be entitled to the better bits."

"True." Finas said with great reluctance, agreeing with Casimiro as he turned over in bed to blow out the lamp that was currently keeping the room lit. As the flame went out, the room was enveloped in darkness, and Finas sighed. "My apologies."

"I was _kidding _Finas; it's only that I'm really selfish."

"Not sure if that's any better, to be honest."

"Ha!"


End file.
